


kisses on the necks of best friends

by maranhig



Category: Walking Dead RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, excessive blushing!norman, let’s just say andy and gael have an Agreement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 04:03:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1141189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maranhig/pseuds/maranhig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>after the zombie prank debacle in tokyo, andy finds his own ways of making norman blush. he just doesn’t expect that it has to involve getting stabbed in the eye by a boner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	kisses on the necks of best friends

**Author's Note:**

> if you haven’t seen the said prank, your life is not yet complete. to be enlightened: www.youtube.com/watch?v=igDzM4CyWa8  
> and if the blush still isn’t visible enough-- http://pistengyawa.tumblr.com/post/73659069414/chandra75-adhara112-blushing-holy-shit  
> so as you can see, i was helpless in the face of not making a fic of it. i made it fluffy and RL-nonconforming so there are no headaches. this thing was written in under four hours, all mistakes are mine, title is by fall out boy, i don't own these folks (though i wish i do), et cetera.  
> and LOOK AT THEM BEING STUPID BUTTS TOGETHER AT NARITA AIRPORT THIS JUST CONFIRMS THE FIC, OKAY. http://pistengyawa.tumblr.com/post/74159734879/nonormynolife-andrew-norman-laughing-a-lot-at okay. i’ll stop talking now.

The bathroom in your suite is huge and mirrored and has a glassed-in shower. You turn on the water and strip while it runs, half-aware of the blast of music outside from the TV – Norman making himself at home, no matter that he’s in the pad just across yours. The soap smells like pine, and it makes you think about the forest that encloses your set in Senoia. When you rinse off and lean out to grab a towel, Norman’s sitting on the bathroom counter, bare feet swinging in the air like he’s a little kid.

You grin, feeling a bit self-conscious for a moment because his eyes weigh heavily on you, more than usual. “Hey. Didn’t know you were there.”

“C’mere.”

You leave the towel and go. He parts his knees and you slot yourself between them. He cards his hands through your hair, curses when you shake free like a dog and spray him with water droplets. “You look pleased with yourself,” he says, and you just shrug, grin wider when he trails his hand down your sternum. He’s always been jealous of your chest hair, because there’s only sparse patches here and there on his own and you always tease him for it. You’ve got more things to tease him about now.

“I’m pleased because we managed to make you scream like a little girl,” you laugh, cupping his hips to haul him close. “Sean’s gonna be so disappointed.”

He scowls and oh, there it is, that still barely-there, enchanting blush furling on his cheeks. “It was a manly scream, thanks very much.”

You arch a skeptical eyebrow, rub at the divot under Norman’s pouting lower lip. “There’s such a thing?”

“Can we change the topic already, you smug motherfucker,” he growls, hooking his ankles around your thighs. He’s still fully-clothed, and the fabric scratches alluringly over your bare skin. You give in after one last chuckle, kiss him sweet and sharp, probably the gum he chews to get the smoke out of his mouth. Pity, because you like that he tastes that way. You don’t like that he has to rot his lungs in order to do that, though.

You suck on his tongue and it earns you a full-body shudder, arms wrapping around your shoulders to pull you down until he’s almost lying on the counter with you atop him. You can feel his hardon even through his slacks, and he bites at your lower lip, groans, “You asshole, why are you still smiling?”

“Because you’re here and I’m happy.” You gently butt your forehead into his. “We’re in Tokyo and we’ve gone halfway round the world together and I’m happy. And people smile when they’re happy, you incredible moron.”

“Dude, point made.” But he’s grinning too, and when he pushes at you to hop off the countertop, you don’t mind. The hard edge has been digging uncomfortably into your thighs after all. “How about we move this party to the bedroom, hm?”

Yeah, you _definitely_ don’t mind.

But if you were self-conscious earlier, you really are now, because you’re completely naked in front of Norman as if you’re on display.  When you get to the king-sized bed, however, he’s already loosened his tie and is now pulling his shirt off. It never fails to affect you, the breadth of his shoulders and the coiled power in his biceps, his birdwing clavicles just begging to be bitten at and marked. You reach out and touch his tattoo, feeling a tiny bit dazed.

“What?” he asks, genuinely puzzled, his shirt hanging off one arm.

 _You’re beautiful_ , you want to say, but that’s hardly appropriate, for all the shenanigans you get up to with him. Instead you go, “Someone this ripped got scared of a little old zombie.”

He flings his shirt across the room in frustration. “Shut up.”

You sit at the foot of the bed, spread out lazily enough that it conceals nothing. “Or what?” you ask, feeling terribly tongue in cheek.

Norman flashes a grin, puts a hand on his belt. “Or I’ll whip you.”

You laugh, but you can feel yourself grow hot at the thought. Not that you’re one for getting hit with a belt, not even for fun. It’s just that the idea of him doing it, and seeing him right now with his belt in hand – you swallow past the lump in your throat and palm your thigh.

Of course, he notices.

His eyes widen and he actually blushes again – you could get used to that, to be honest – but he doesn’t say anything, just works his belt open and pulls it loose, teeth white against his lower lip.

You were hard in the bathroom, but this. Norman’s hair in his face as he practically stripteases for you, this is something else entirely. You tug on your cock and try not to sound like a cheap whore when you moan.

He lets his belt drop to the floor, and you can’t stop staring at the V of his hips, the stark contrast of his untouched belly with his dark gray slacks. You can practically feel your mouth water.

Norman undoes his pants, and his underwear is a boring, plain white, and somehow the sexiest underwear you’ve had the pleasure of seeing. He slips his hands into the pants, ready to take them off.

“No, wait,” you choke out. “Let me.”

He grins and steps forward, now the one between your thighs this time. He grips your shoulders and you rub at his waist for a moment before hooking your hands into the waistband of both his slacks and briefs, inching them off and feeling Norman’s ass rise under your palms. You slide off the bed as you kneel down, gliding his pants down his legs until they’ve pooled around his ankles and your cheek is against his navel. He’s firmly gripping your head, his cock nudging your throat. He balances, pulling one foot free and then the other and you’re both finally naked. You place a soft nibbling kiss at the tip of his erection and his hips jerk under your hands and.

A sharp searing pain right in your eye socket and you yelp and stumble back, your spine cracking against the wood of the bed and _ow_ , double ow, ow everywhere, jesus fucking christ. You have no idea what’s just happened and the most ridiculous ideas flash through your mind: assassin bees, broken glass, a mini-grenade exploding under your skin –

“Oh my god.” Norman’s kneeling down, tugging your fisted hand away to see, and he looks as terrified as you feel. You blink at him, the vision in your left eye still pulsing black and red. You’re tearing up from the pain but you force yourself to stay still as he inspects the damage.

His face goes from scared shitless to utterly mortified, and you frown even if any minute action you do is pretty damn painful. “Norman? What –”

“I got you in the eye with my boner.” He goes ripe tomato-red in a nanosecond and buries his face in his hands, the flush creeping down his neck. “Oh my fucking god I stabbed you with my boner Jesus fucking Christ.”

You shut down for a while from trying to process his words, and when you finally get it, you start laughing like a maniac, doubling over when he smacks you repeatedly on the arm and howls, “Stop it! You sound like a crazy person. Oh my god did I, like, dislodge your brain or something, _dude_.”

“No, I just, I just thought –” The last of your hysteria fades into hiccupping giggles, and you have to take a huge breath before saying as calmly as you can, “I thought you were supposed to stab more important parts of my anatomy with that thing.”

You gape at each other for a few moments before you lose it all over again, and your sides and cheeks ache by the end of it, Norman slumped by you boneless and still sniggering. He tilts his head back against the mattress and sighs, “We are the stupidest guys ever in the history of gay sex.”

“That we are.” You test the forming bruise around your eye and wince. “Well. At least it’ll look like I got in a barfight all tough-like.”

He doesn’t comment on it, just leans closer until he can brace his arms against the bed, his breath prickling your skin and his mouth level with the offended area. “Gonna kiss it better?” you ask, craning your neck back to properly smile at him, though it dissipates when you see how his gaze has gone an odd smoky dark blue.

You aren’t all that prepared for how he tentatively mouths over your cheekbone with intense precision, convoluted pleasureplain that makes you push against the action at the same time you try withdrawing from it. By the time he’s satisfied, your flagging erection has come back to life and you’re clutching at him, making the worst needful sounds.

Norman smirks against your cheek, and he whispers low right in your ear, “Let’s go to the stabbing more important parts of your anatomy, shall we?”

You don’t even bother laughing, just yank him to his feet and fall backwards onto the bed as he follows in suit, kissing open and quick, deeper than hell.

Much later you’re watching Norman wrap his lips around a cigarette in almost the same way they wrapped around your cock mere minutes ago, and you close your eyes from the sight because you want to enjoy your afterglow without interruption. “Mmh. I’m gonna need to cover this thing up. Don’t want Nicotero asking how I got it.”

“Say you got in a barfight.”

You shoot him a flatly unamused look. “I was just kidding when I said that. We went straight up here after we pranked you and we’re meeting him for dinner later, he’s not stupid.”

He chuckles as he breathes out a lungful of smoke. “You tripped, then. C’mon, I can’t keep thinking for you.”

“Oh sure, tripped and nearly poked my eye out on your boner,” you snort, grinning when he starts coughing on his cancer stick and you laugh and pound his back as he goes bright red again from more than air loss. Once he’s calmed down some, you roll on top of him, confiscate the cigarette and stub it out on the ashtray. He doesn’t bitch about it but looks…guilty, almost. As a peace offering you start up a slow dirty grind that has him arching up and gripping your hips, mouth slack with desire.

“You wanna go again?” you ask softly.

The blood welling under his skin like a flower, but that’s just him getting turned on, and you love that you know him well enough now to tell the difference. He sits up so you’re in his lap, and his mouth is all slick wet heat against yours as he murmurs, “You never need to ask, man.”

Nobody looks at you twice once you’ve covered up the bruise with enough foundation, but for the rest of the flight back Norman doesn’t even bother hiding his silly little smiles.

It’s one more in-joke only the two of you’ll be able to laugh at, after all.


End file.
